‘THAT WAS THE WRONG DECISION’: Broken Angie walks off show

A shattered Angie Kent has walked off her own show during the penultimate episode of The Bachelorette after dumping a man many thought would win - only to declare she has made the "wrong decision" while scream-crying.

Scream-crying is a really fantastic way to get your message across with a level of emotion that people simply can't ignore. For example, when I go to Event cinemas and get told - only after my payment has been accepted - that the frozen coke machine is broken, I scream-cry.

Ooft, so where are we in this never-ending program? There's three guys left. That guy, that other guy. Oh and also, that … guy.

Last time we saw Carlin, he was sobbing in a cul-de-sac after his brother exposed him as a wannabe actor using The Bachelorette as a way to get an audition to play Toadie's long-lost and more-attractive brother on Neighbours. Obviously, Angie was distraught. But she has gotten over it because wannabe actors deserve love too.

She goes on the final single dates with all the boys. I could tell you about them and rewrite that joke I always use about producers scraping together the final Red Balloon vouchers and scrounging up all the leftover wine rolling around the bottom of the Network Ten staff fridge, but let's not waste our time. The dates are fine. We're only here to witness the scream-crying and Angie making a choice she instantly regrets.

We cut straight to the rose ceremony. There's no point in having a cocktail party where we all stand around pretending to like each other. It's just these three bozos left. All the conversation has been exhausted and we really don't want Ryan to show us his stupid dog Instagram page again. Honestly, you rock up to a BBQ only to find these three blokes on the patio. Borrr-ing.

Smell yas later.

Angie picks up the first rose from the silver platter. She pushes a swoop of hair out of her face and holds back tears.

"Carlin," she says, still unsure how that is an actual name.

OK, so it's between Timmmm and that guy with the dog Instagram.

"If I went home, I'd be distraught," Timmm says. It's the first proper sentence he has strung together all series. He must really want this.

Angie pauses. Staring at the ground, she fiddles with her hair and tries to delay delivering her decision. She covers her face and breaks down in tears. The room is still. Then, she bolts. Oh my ghad, you guys, we've got a runaway!

She's obviously overwhelmed and needs a moment - just one second to compose herself and reset. We should respect that.

But we don't. We yell, "Charge!" and ringlead a team of cameramen and producers out to the backyard to locate this dame.

We find her cowering in the dark, attempting to camouflage among all that fake plastic ivy vine-age that has been glued to every surface of the patio.

"Angela Bernice Kent!" we scream. "You get back inside this instant!"

"I felt like I could pick but now I don't know if I can," she sobs.

Stop those crocodile tears immediately, madam.

"You WILL be culling one of those boys tonight whether you like it or not," we snip, grabbing her by the wrist but she twists out of our grasp and scurries like a rat down a garden path.

"I don't know now. F**k," she wails to a producer who, it should be noted, is wearing one of those floor-length puffer jackets.

Honestly, it’s basically a doona with sleeves.

As she's being consoled by that walking doona, we grab her by the hair extensions and march her back to the rose ceremony to finish what she started.

"Timmmm," she finally declares, giving him the last rose.

"It's so hard! It's so hard!" she breaks down.

Me when the girl at Event cinemas tells me the frozen coke machine is broken.

"I don't wanna talk about it," she sobs before running out of her own show again.

Of course, we're left to clean up the mess she has made.

"Ryan, you've been fired. Catch you on the 'Gram," we declare while running back outside to reprimand Angie for her unprofessionalism yet again.

Ryan's about to get in the Uber when Angie finds the strength to face him. Well, she tries to face him.

"I can't even look at you," she bawls.

"I think the absolute world of you," he comforts her.

We slam the Uber door in his face and whack the car roof three times. It speeds off into the darkness.

"Ugh, what the f**k," she howls, looking up into the night sky.

"It was for your own good, Angela," we state.

She's so frustrated with the pain of love that she starts running again until she falls to the ground. That walking doona runs over to comfort her.

"Why did I do that? Oh, that was the worst!" Angie scream-cries. "Why did I do that? That was the wrong decision! That was not the right decision! That felt awful. I shouldn't have done that. That was sh*t."

We skip over to the weeping heap that's slumped in the grass. Maybe we've been a little harsh tonight. Angie needed us more than ever and our no-nonsense demeanour meant we probably weren't as sympathetic as we should've been.

She looks up as we stand above her. Mascara is running down her face and she squints as the full moon shines in her eyes.

"Did I make the right decision?" she sniffs, looking for an authoritative voice to support her choice.

We kneel down on that walking doona so as not to get grass stains on our outfit. Caressing Angela's wet cheek in our palm, we look her warmly in the eye and reply with a stifled laugh.

"Probably not."

For more observations on frozen coke and doonas with sleeves, follow me on Twitter and Facebook: @hellojamesweir